All for the Best
by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer
Summary: Sort of sad, mostly interesting. Harry deals with his emotions and makes a choice on the Light vs Dark subject. Mistakes are made and then fixed. HPLV as always.


_by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer_

_**Disclaimer: **__#wearing sunglasses, a glue-on mustache, and a pipe jutting from between her lips# She doesn't own it, see? Just a bunch of false hopes and fodder for lawsuits, see?_

_**AN:**__ Songfics haunt me. I want to do them well, but I don't know how they'll end up until I'm finished with them. Urk._

_This is one of those fics that start off from after OotP (no real mention of it, though) and go off perpendicularly just because, though there are a couple hints about horcruxes._

_Once again, you should know how to use YouTube by now, so I suggest you go look up 'Hide and Seek' by Imogen Heap. There's a fairly good amv for DeathNote called #cough# "All for the Best" and multiple HP ones. Heh._

_**"All for the Best"**_

_where are we?_

_what the hell is going on?_

Harry looked up, watching with wide eyes as things moved on around him. Baffled, he saw a family of redheads fighting, arguing about something he couldn't quite catch. An old man with a beard long enough to tuck into his belt sat against a wall, watching the proceedings with poorly concealed amusement.

No one else noticed.

_the dust has only just begun to form_

_crop circles in the carpet_

Wands were pulled, several bangs sounding in the room before a sudden stillness. A wail louder than any banshee and more mournful than any augurey could ever dream of being filled the room, bouncing around in the pit of their souls.

Harry could have sworn that he heard sirens in the distance.

_sinking feeling_

The old man stood, speaking firmly, and the redheads still breathing listened attentively, naïve. One stumbled over to the fire, throwing a bit of powder into it and making it turn green before sticking his head in.

Harry wanted to speak, say something about how their leader had simply watched as they squabbled violently between each other, disagreeing about one thing or another and nitpicking those who didn't agree with them. However, he found that at that time in that basement room he could not speak, couldn't do anything more than watch with growing horror.

_spin me round again_

_and rub my eyes,_

Another Order meeting, death heavy on everyone's mind seemingly except for one. More plans for the war float up into the air from where they slip past the codger's mouth. They're oppressive as they drift down to settle in everyone's ears, weighing down their heads with doubt and guilt and _fear_.

Harry winced as the red hot poker that signaled Voldemort's presence sprang to life, burning behind his eyes and sizzling through his scar. Gritting his teeth, he allowed it, paying just as close attention to everything as he had been, nearly urging the Dark Lord to take it all in.

Save me.

Save them from Him.

_this can't be happening_

A soft gasp was all he heard before everyone was crowding around him as blood dripped down his face. The white-bearded man was frowning at him, searching blue eyes gleaning nothing more than the fact that Voldemort was involved before Harry pushed him out. Red mother hen clucking over him, he stood and ignored it all before walking out.

They couldn't stop him. It was his house.

_when busy streets a mess with people_

_would stop to hold their heads - heavy_

Even so late at night, the London streets were packed. Harry reveled in the anonymity provided by them.

There was only one person he could never hide from and he was there. Harry could feel him, moving around those he was thought to want nothing more than the death of. The boy-now-young man knew better.

Settling down in a pleasant, little café, Harry waited.

_hide and seek_

_trains and sewing machines_

"Is this seat taken?" The soft words sounded like a yell in his ears. He shook his head, not watching as the man sat across from him. Unfocused eyes gazed out into the mass of humans, taking in everything and nothing.

A waiter came by, took their order though it was the older man who spoke. He knew what Harry liked.

_all those years_

_they were here first_

"Tom?" His whisper would have been lost to the background noise if it had been anyone else but his companion he spoke to. As it was, the other man took his time replying.

"Yes, Harry?" The name was spoken with some familiarity as if they spoke so intimately often. A soft fluttering warmth spread throughout his chest.

"Am I going mad?" Soft, again, and the other questions that went with it were silently looming over them, battering their minds' ears.

His answer was the soft scraping of metal on concrete, footsteps unheard of by mortal ears, and the sudden feel of his worst enemy blessing him with the most loving touch he had ever experienced to that date. When Tom pulled away, his lips were still tingling.

The waiter returned to find an empty table.

_oily marks appear on walls_

_where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,_

Without turning, he knew that he was the only one in the room, that he was the only one who would think back on the last few hours and wish they had lasted longer. The bed was cold except for the parts closest to his body and that was only minimally warmer.

His soul shuddered.

_the sweeping insensitivity of this still life_

No one asked where he had gone last night or what he had done. He didn't bring it up, just went to the library and took a nap in the corner, hidden by books. The library remained empty as long as he was in there ever since Hermione...

_hide and seek_

_trains and sewing machines (oh, you won't catch me around here)_

His letter came, but he just burned it. There was no way he was going back.

Minerva contacted him a week later, but he refused to answer any of her other questions besides the obvious one: that he would not be attending Hogwarts that year. His Seventh Year would go unattended.

He wouldn't go back to those blood-stained halls with their puppeteer master.

_blood and tears (hearts)_

_they were here first_

However, when the battle broke out on Hogwarts' grounds, Harry couldn't refuse.

It was early morning by the time word got out and reinforcements arrived. So many of the defenses had been brought down that Hogwarts was nearly unrecognizable. Some gagged at the blackened stone and charred bone.

Harry just walked forward as the sky broke above them, flooding the world with its poetic symbol of sadness, but he knew the truth. The heavens were too far away to really feel their pain. Hell was much closer.

_Mmmm whacha say,_

_Mmmm that you only meant well?_

The Death Eaters had caught them at the end of the evening meal, trapping most of them inside the Great Hall. Those who had not been within were not envied.

A glow was showing on the horizon, but no one within the castle could see it.

_well of course you did_

They broke through the doors, baring all the soft bits to the teeth of the predators. Harry drifted amongst them, using their uniforms against them, mostly to get a good view of the duel sure to occur.

It did with the expected flairs of two male peacocks, strutting their stuff to attract a mate. Harry never thought of himself as a candidate for such things.

Too bad that he had made his choice despite all its flaws.

Aiming carefully as he followed their movements, Harry was close enough to grab the robes of his intended victim when he cast.

_Mmmm whacha say,_

_Mmmm that its all for the best?_

The sudden whip of cloth to the side was just in time for the spell to miss and Harry watched with disbelieving eyes as it hit the wrong wizard. Wide, red eyes were focused on where the spell had come from even as his corpse hit the ground. Screaming as pain worse than a thousand Cruciatus curses ripped through his scull, Harry collapsed insensible.

Sunlight began to filter into the castle.

_Because it is_

For the entire week he was out, the Wizarding World celebrated, lauding him a hero even though he hadn't won the battle in the way they'd all imagined it. Dumbledore allowed them to embellish it however they wanted as always. Before long even those who had witnessed it were declaring that it had been a long and grueling duel with both Dumbledore and Harry working together to bring Voldemort down.

Harry wanted - more than ever before - to keel over and be done with it.

_Mmmm whacha say?_

_Mmmm that it's just what we need_

Dumbledore's smiling face loomed over him nearly every time he woke, disturbed him beyond anything he'd ever witnessed, and every speech he endured of the old man's greatness or brilliant moves for an old geezer made him want to climb on the person's chest and shove whatever was handy down their throats - be it pillow, hippogriff, teapot, or phoenix.

_you decided this_

Nine days, nine days was all it had taken for him to snap. It was during one of those _talks_ Dumbledore arranged for him to be unknowingly probed for information.

All he remembered was Dumbledore chittering on about his remaining friends and what those who had already gone on would want for him before he was suddenly sitting on that frail rib cage with his hands wrapped around a wrinkled neck, gurgling noises emitting from that constricted throat passed the brightly painted china dish jammed between those yellowing teeth.

_whacha say?_

_Mmmm what did she say?_

His friends would be in denial when they found out, but Harry didn't care. Family members and best friends all beyond care, he struck back with impunity. Everyone he had ever loved was dead or unable to care.

Harry was a hero.

Now he would be a murderer twice over.

_ransom notes keep falling out your mouth_

_mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs_

They begged for him to come back, to explain. 'What had happened? What was wrong?' They disgusted him.

Albus Dumbledore's body had been found, filled with those silver machines he used to have around his office and sporting red plumage from his eyes. The body of Fawks was never found.

Harry was still nursing the burns on his cheek.

_speak no feeling no i don't believe you_

The media was having a blast while the public panicked. Their Savior had brutally murdered the leader of the Light. Some blamed Death Eaters for the attack, claiming it was all a mistake and it hadn't really been _Harry Potter_ who did those horrible things.

Others swore that Harry was mental and needed to be locked up or put down permanently before he killed everyone.

Harry was inclined to agree with the latter.

Where could he find solace?

_you don't care a bit,_

_you don't care a bit_

Riddle house was silent except for the wind. It was cold, too.

Laying on the bed in which he lost his virginity, his heart, his soul, he felt numb. His hands itched horribly and he thought that if he could bring himself to look at them they would be stained red.

Maybe it would be green? I should have been green, the color of a wizard's death.

_(hide and seek)_

_ransom notes keep falling out your mouth_

_mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs_

Owls flocked around him, somehow having gotten into the house. Harry thought he'd shut the door behind him, but then magic had a way of getting past such Muggle obstacles as walls and doors.

Annoyed, they fluttered about him, demanding he relieve them of their burdens, but he wouldn't touch them. His body was weakening with each passing day and there were tracking charms on the mail, he was positive.

They'd be coming for him soon.

_(hide and seek)_

_speak no feeling no i don't believe you_

The sounds of wood splintering and people running, climbing stairs and shouting.

They had arrived and Harry inanely wished he knew more about wards. Nothing short of a miracle would stop them from getting what they wanted now.

Harry found that he was out of those.

_you don't care a bit,_

_you don't care a (you don't care a) bit_

They had his trial in the same courtroom as the last time, but there were more people at this one. The Minister was having major difficulties attaining order. None of the gossips would cease their twittering and those who weren't speaking stared at Harry accusingly, triumphantly, hopelessly.

There was one there, someone who seemed out of place to Harry, but no one else seemed to notice.

It was the eyes as red as wine that gave him away.

_(hide and seek)_

_oh no, you don't care a bit_

_oh no, you don't care a bit_

Only under that gaze did Harry want to cry, to deny that he had ever destroyed the Dark Lord. How could he have if said same wizard was in that very room?!

Lucius sat beside him, gloating with his entire being to the only one who could ever measure up to his master, particularly since Dumbledore was dead. Unable to take his eyes of those red ones, Harry was unaware of their verdict. Even when the dementors first entered the room it didn't phase him.

The replaying of those final moments as his target moved and his love died before his very eyes was the only thing to alert him. Red eyes widened as a few of the young man's recent moments pushed into his mind as the robed figures crowded around their given victim.

_(hide and seek)_

_oh no, you don't care a bit_

Screams echoed through the courtroom as the dementors reacted to the high-pitched hissing and turned on the attending witches and wizards. For disobeying, they were given a feast and found it satisfying.

Death Eaters donned their cloaks and masks, saving themselves from the deathly kisses bestowed on all those unmarked.

_you don't care a bit_

Green eyes gazed up into red, shuttered and shattered. Cracked lips parted, soft hiss of escaping air.

"Not today, Mr. Potter," Voldemort murmured, waving his hand to release his most valuable asset from the chains. Soft cry lilting as the Wizarding World's ex-Savior stood shakily, took two steps and collapsed into the Dark Lord's arms.

_you don't care a bit_

_**AN:**__ Ha HAH! Made you think Tom didn't care, didn't I? Well, he does in his own way, but he didn't know that Harry had been aiming for Dumbledore. Also how the spell meant for Dumbledore hit Tom instead, was due to these reasons: surprise, distraction, the fact that it had been Harry, and that someone from the audience had subtly cast a sticking charm to the floor where Tom ended up standing. #shrugs# Or something like that._

_So, who doesn't care a bit? What do they not care about? #smirks# What do _you_ think?_

_Ok, for a little clarification: when Harry asks Tom if he's mad, he _is _referring to the mental definition because of his thoughts on defeating Dumbledore for the sake of those those he cared about but is more distant to. If you didn't catch the fact that Hermione, Ron, Remus, and a bunch of others are dead, well... Just know that Harry doesn't like to think of them._


End file.
